


Before Sunrise

by lizwontcry



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:18:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/pseuds/lizwontcry
Summary: Sandor comes across Arya taking a moment to breathe after the Battle of Winterfell. He's proud of her, he supposes.





	Before Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first GOT fic and frankly I probably have no business writing these characters, but I needed to get it out of my system after this last episode. Kudos and feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading.

All of Winterfell is silent. The only sound that can be heard outside the castle is the soft patter of the falling snow. Arya takes a deep breath and inhales the cold, trying to ignore the stale stench that only thousands of burned zombie bodies can bring. 

Arya gives into a feeling that she's not quite familiar with-- _pride._ She didn't start this battle by believing she'd be the one to end it, but she did. Everything she'd been through all this time and it finally paid off. The Night King is gone, and she has her family and home back. And goddammit, she's proud of herself.

She knows everyone will want to have a proper celebration for her soon; word of her courageous efforts will be making its way through Winterfell and every man, woman and child will know before the sun is up. Before that happens, she wants a moment to herself. She deserves it--she's earned it. 

As she's looking up at the dark sky, looking for any signs of a star, she hears footsteps come from behind her. As if she doesn't know instantly who it is--you don't travel with someone for so long without knowing when they're approaching. 

"Well, aren't you a brave little bitch?" 

Of course, she didn't count on the Hound finding her before anyone else does. 

She takes her time turning around to face him. Sandor Clegane, the man, the myth, the legend. Her once hated enemy, her now trusted friend. Not that she'd ever tell him that.

"Saved _your_ life, didn't I?" Arya says, trying to hide a savage grin. She knew he wouldn't take kindly to that in his current state. 

"Aye, and I saved yours. Does that make us even?" Sandor is trying to sound like the gruff ol' bastard he's worked so hard on portraying over the years, but Arya sees through it all. She understands his pain; she knows what he's been through and how frightened he must have been through the whole battle, through all the fire and flames.

"I'd say not. I saved mankind. What did you do?"

Sandor shook his head. "It's utterly bizarre. How can a little shit kid like you defeat the fucking Night King?"

Arya knows he actually does want to know how, despite his disbelief that she actually managed to make it happen. So she explains exactly how she did it. How Bran gave her the dagger long ago, how sparring with Brienne showed her a skill she didn't know she had, and...

"And I used what you taught me. About aiming at the heart." Arya doesn't particularly want him to know this--a small part of her is desperate not to give Sandor any credit when it comes to turning her into the fighter that she has come to be, but that ship has sailed--and they both know it. She's grateful to the fucking guy. 

Sandor nods his head, and Arya swears she sees the faintest hint of a smile.

"Good. It's nice that our time together wasn't a complete fucking waste of time," he says. Sandor approaches Arya and she stands in awe as he lightly touches the wound on her forehead. His touch is soft and gentle, and Arya is stunned but grateful that he seems to care.

"That's got to hurt, girl. It looks terrible. You may have a nasty scar like me," Sandor says, and Arya laughs.

"Well, you look like shit, too," Arya says, and Sandor nods as though he's sure he does, in fact, look like shit. Quietly, as though she knows he's not going to answer her question, Arya says, "Are you--will you be okay?" 

Sandor looks slightly shocked by this question. Maybe because it's been so long since anyone has asked him that.

"Of course I'll be fine," he says gruffly, and Arya feels a little dumb that she asked. "I've been through a lot rougher than a few fucking fire zombies." Arya actually doubts this. She wants to apologize for assuming he wasn't okay, but then she thought the better of it. Their relationship--or whatever it is--is not built on apologies and guilt. And Arya was done apologizing to any man a long time ago, anyway. 

Sandor looks down at Arya, whose expression is absolutely blank (after all she didn't learn how to be No One without being able to control her facial expressions), and she can tell he knows he spoke too quickly. After all, she cares about him and what he just went through, and of course he knows this.

"I suppose it was rougher than most, though," he admits, looking like he'd rather fight another zombie than have this conversation. "The flames were never-ending, the fires were brutal, and I found myself feeling utterly defeated and helpless. Dondarrian snapped me out of it. I guess I'm going to miss that asshole. He was a pain in the ass but he was a friend."

Arya nods. The Red Woman had told her that Beric had died so Arya could fulfill her destiny, but she still feels like shit about it. She would never get used to the casualties of war. 

"Anyway. I wanted to find you. Say that I'm proud of you. And if you tell anyone I said it, I will kill you in your sleep," Sandor says, not looking at her.

Arya smiles, and in spite of everything, comes toward him in an embrace. Sandor stumbles for a second, but allows it to happen. They wrap their arms around each other for a brief second or two, enjoying the contact, acknowledging all they've been through together, both the good and the bad. And just as quickly as it happened, they turn away from each other, embarrassed. 

Before either of them can insult each other again, Arya hears a voice in the distance.

"Arya! Arya, where are you?!" 

"I'm up here, Gendry," Arya says, and Gendry climbs the steps faster than anyone has a right to and flings himself into Arya's arms.

"I heard! I just heard. I'm--"

Before Gendry could finish his sentence, Arya is kissing him, and kissing him a lot. Sandor groans loudly and looks away.

"Well, guess I'll fuck off then," Sandor says. "See you later, girl." Arya nods. Sandor looks at Gendry, who is trying to avoid his eyes. "You've got your hands full with this one." He winks at Gendry and walks away into the night. Arya watches him go.

"What was that about?" Gendry asks.

"No idea," Arya says. "I have no idea what that was about."

Arya does know, of course, and so does the Hound. Only the two of them can know what they went through together, and how it led to Arya bringing down the Night King. It's something she'd never share with anyone else, and she supposes that she will always be grateful to him for that...

Not that Arya would ever admit it.


End file.
